


And Their Foolish Hearts Were Darkened

by greygerbil



Category: Original Work
Genre: Breaking Chastity Vows, Christian guilt, M/M, Medieval Germany, Period-Typical Homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-07-28 10:43:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20062729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greygerbil/pseuds/greygerbil
Summary: Father Leopold has always struggled with his vows and the arrival of the handsome stranger Peregrine helps very little. This man, however, is not just one of the usual travellers that the priest likes to invite into his life for a few hours.





	And Their Foolish Hearts Were Darkened

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eidetic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eidetic/gifts).

Leopold had not been made for the church. Unfortunately, being born after the heir and the spare in his lord father’s family meant his career trajectory had been clear from the start.

There had been attempts to make him suited. His education had been left to a strict old monk, who had raised him to be pious and feel guilty every time he looked out of the window to see his brothers and sisters play in the sun while he was stuck in a dark musty room reciting psalms he learned to resent more with every passing year. He was kept from all the amusements boys his age and status enjoyed – feasts, hunts, tourneys – and that had only made his dreams bigger and brighter as he listened to people talk of these things at supper. Books of courtly romance were snatched out of his hands in favour of devout texts and the bible, but he imagined their contents at night. Yet, all these exertions did not force down his nature, which was bent to worldly pursuits.

That was what Leopold told himself, anyway. Perhaps, as he often wondered when feeling the weight of the chain with the cross around his neck, it was just the devil whispering in his ear, making him seek excuses for his lack of steadfastness.

There were things about being a priest he liked. Teaching children could be fun because they had an untainted energy that was sorely lacking from most of his fellow men of the church, who had lost what personality they may once have had between dusty pages. He loved leading the choir because he enjoyed singing, though he wished that not every song had to be a ponderous plainchant; the drinking songs and shanties he heard from the taverns and at the docks were so much more lively. He also liked that the parish he was heading laid at the edge of a busy port town with a strong merchant guild’s presence, leaving his church surrounded by inns and taverns. Almost every day there would be new faces at mass, people who just passed through, people he would never see again.

Men who would have no reason to speak of the priest they had talked to in private after confession.

He did not drink or eat excessively. He read the bible before bed and prayed. He gave advice to people as best he could. He had never laid hand on another human to harm them. The bishop, whenever he deigned to visit, was satisfied with him. Besides, Leopold told himself, he was not the only one. There were enough priests doing worse! Some had whole families sitting in some hut and at least his own sinful proclivities kept him from putting any woman into an awkward situation. A couple he’d met even had an interest in children, which seemed less natural and far more wicked to Leopold than his own sins. Some abbeys he’d visited had more gossip than a court when you knew how to listen about whom had been found in which bed in the sleeping chambers, so he was not the only one interested in men, either.

Of course, Leopold had never been tempted by anyone wearing the cloth. The very presence of a habit or cross on a man repulsed him, in fact, shielded him from seeing any beautiful feature of face or body that may otherwise have taken him in. He told himself it was because he did not wish to drag another servant of God into his sin; but the bitterness he felt on worse days when he unlocked the doors to the church on dark mornings betrayed him. Being among other priests too long convinced him he could feel the soft thud of earth on the lid of a coffin, the walls of a crypt drawing in, and fire licking at his feet. The afterlife ruled their thoughts. They wanted to go to heaven more than anything, but Leopold already knew where he was headed, ever since he had kissed that cabin boy when he was twelve, after slipping away from his teacher to watch the ships.

Perhaps that was why he sinned with sailors now, vagabonds, travelling tradesmen, showpeople, all those who wandered away from the ponderous, holy stone prison that Leopold returned to every day.

Whenever that simple truth pressed onto his mind, he prayed more fervently for forgiveness that would not come. It was in those moments he realised that in the end, his pleas that he was not the worst of men would go unheard. Regardless, he would not be granted mercy.

-

“Good morning, Captain Gunter. Back again, I see?”

“Morning!”

The old man slapped Leopold on the back where he sat on a stack of boxes, poised to look at the forest of masts that grew out of the haven, ships swimming so close you wondered how they would ever escape the press again. Leopold had come here for so many years that some of the regulars knew him now. He was always careful not to involve them in his more clandestine affairs.

“Watching the sunrise again?”

“One of God’s greatest spectacles.”

Leopold did like it, of course. He liked the strong men carrying crates and barrels and climbing in the riggings better, and the billowing sails of ships swinging out to sea made his heart beat faster, but the soft light of early morning cast the whole scene in bright, beautiful colours and for that he enjoyed it.

“How were you travels, Captain?”

“Good, good.”

Gunter frowned and Leopold gave him a politely inquisitive gaze. The captain shook his long, grey mane.

“Inclement weather?” Leopold guessed.

“Strange thing about one of the passengers, actually. Swear I didn’t see him get on the boat in Brighton, but when I stopped him about it, I’d logged him in my book and had his payment for the fair.” He scowled at Leopold before he had a chance to answer. “And don’t you be saying it’s my age, young man. I’m still as sharp as any boy like you.”

“Twenty-two is hardly a boy’s age,” Leopold said, smiling. “Besides, I made no such comment! I’m sure you just forgot about him what with all you had to do before you left England.”

“I must have, don’t I?” Gunter rubbed his chin before he straightened. “Well, there he is now!”

Leopold followed the point of his finger. He’d never had to try harder to keep his expression an innocently blithe smile. The man that walked towards them was one of the tallest Leopold had ever seen, with broad-shoulders and endless legs. His long dark hair was captured in an untidy ponytail, loose strands blown across his tanned face by the salt-smelling wind. He had brown eyes so light they appeared golden. His clothes made it difficult to place him – the wide, black mantle and green tunic with silver stitches were the dress of a man of considerable means, but they were sun-bleached and frayed, and his leather boots had scuff marks and dark spots.

“Master Peregrine, I was just telling my friend here about you.”

“Father,” Peregrine said and revealed his teeth in a blinding smile as he looked Leopold up and down.

“Er – yes, Father Leopold,” Leopold stammered.

“It’s nice to make your acquaintance.”

His accent was as untraceable as his status. He was not an Englishman, but Leopold could not have hazarded a guess where he came from. Was he from Portugal, or one of the Italian city states, or someone from the Far East?

“Does the captain still believe I flew to his ship?” Peregrine joked.

“There is a falcon they call by your name in England, is there not?” Leopold asked. His brother was a passionate falconer and he still remembered some of his ravings.

“Indeed! But sadly, I do not have wings. I am just as restless, though.”

“This young man says he’s _exploring_,” Gunter muttered, his tone speaking clear enough on what he thought of that.

Leopold gave Peregrine a careful smile.

“Seeing God’s world is not a bad way to spend one’s time.”

“And one’s parents money,” Gunter added.

“They have enough of it, and sons, too. They’ll barely notice I’m gone.” Laughing, Peregrine flipped back his mantle and offered Leopold his hand. “It’s good to meet someone mild on my follies. Captain Gunter has been frightfully unhappy with me while I was wasting time on his ship – even though he did get paid for letting me do it.”

Leopold took his hand and was surprised at how firm his grip was. Peregrine’s golden eyes seemed to burn into his. He swallowed.

“Where would I find Father Leopold reading mass?” Peregrine asked, turning to Gunter as he slowly let go of Leopold’s hand. “I’m sure you think I am in need of spiritual guidance.”

Captain Gunter snorted, unable not to give the impertinent man a wry grin.

“Father Leopold’s church is at the edge of town along the main road, by the Bull’s Head and Green Cap Inns.”

“Oh, well, those sound fun, too,” Peregrine answered and gave Leopold a wink. “If they don’t keep me busy, maybe I’ll see you around, Father.”

-

Sunday mass was always packed with people and usually, Leopold would let his gaze wander, interested to see what disparate strangers had found their way into his church, and fantasising as he walked to the pulpit about all the places they came from and would leave to. The idea of following some handsome merchant out of town often got him through the repetitive business of the ever same sequence of songs and words.

This time, however, he found himself eagerly searching the rows of faces for one man only. He did not truly expect Peregrine to show up, of course. He’d probably just been teasing Gunter with his lack of good Christian manners. Though he knew this, it was impossible not to feel disappointment when he had almost finished his walk up the aisle and not spotted him.

Then, in the very first pew, a tall man turned to look at him.

Leopold almost stumbled as he recognised Peregrine’s smart, white-toothed grin and golden eyes. He tried to give only a polite smile in return, but feared his happiness to see him again had shone through

The rhythm of the first part of the mass – the chanting and praying – was rote and Leopold could get through it with the appropriate poise even with Peregrine’s gaze on him. He had prepared two sermons for today: one a standard rehearsal on faith, peppered with random, scattered quotes from the bible, only just as long as it needed to be. He would have chosen that one had Peregrine not appeared. The second was a much more well-structured speech preaching on the might of God, the sort that allowed him to recite in a commanding voice the most forceful lines of the holy text. He held Peregrine’s eyes as he did, relieved that the congregation seemed impressed enough to quiet down for once as well. Guilt curled in his chest that he was praising God mostly in hopes to be praised by Peregrine, but he figured he might at least inspire the people he spoke to. It had to count for something.

“Lord, by thy favour thou hast made my mountain to stand strong,” he finished, before falling into the next chant.

The people lined up to receive communion, then. Peregrine was among the first. Leopold made sure his hand was steady as he placed the host on his tongue, which was uncommonly long and stuck out of a smiling mouth. Leopold’s habit suddenly seemed too warm.

When they were done, Leopold blessed the congregation and waited for them to wander out of the church. Some would return later, he knew, to confess their sins and ask his advice, which was in truth another one of the few bearable parts of his occupation to him. He enjoyed talking to people a great deal more than he did sitting over his wax tablet trying to think of ways to wring a drop of originality out of the never-changing holy scripture, at the very least. This time, however, he wanted them to scatter as quickly as possible, for he saw Peregrine lingering at the front.

“I hope you enjoyed the service, sir,” he said politely, when there were few enough people left that’s singling out one of them looked no longer any more incriminating than choosing someone at random for a quick conversation.

“How could I not? You have a way of enticing your audience. When you speak, all eyes are on you.”

Peregrine smiled brightly and Leopold felt once again a little weak in the knees. How could anyone be this handsome?

“People who come to mass tend to be quite invested in hearing about the word of our Lord,” he answered, with false modesty. He’d led sermons with half the congregation seemingly engrossed in their own conversations, so he knew best it wasn’t always that easy.

“It helps to have the word given to you by someone eloquent.” Peregrine leaned against the wooden pew, long arms folded across his chest. “The last town I was in, I thought the priest would fall asleep on the pulpit.”

The corner of Leopold’s mouth twitched. He had made his experiences with priests like that.

“I’m sure he was simply tired from the work and prayer he’d done,” he answered, but he saw in the impish twinkle in Peregrine’s eyes that he’d noticed the smile Leopold hadn’t been wholly able to hide and didn’t seem to judge him for it. That alone was such a relief Leopold could have jumped. Mildness, patience and eternal mercy were very difficult to keep at the forefront of your mind every hour of the day, especially for someone like Leopold, who wasn’t sure he had been blessed with any of these qualities.

“Where do you hold confession today?”

“Right here,” Leopold said, gesturing towards the dark wooden benches of the choir behind the pulpit, which on high holidays would be filled with the monks from a nearby monastery. “People come one after the other into the church for me to hear what weighs on their heart. It usually lasts until supper.”

“Is it mostly people confessing to trifles, or do you sometimes hear about deadly sins?” Peregrine asked, leaning forward.

“You know I can’t tell you that,” Leopold admonished gently.

“I don’t want to hear details about someone specific!” Peregrine said with a laugh. “It’s not like I know anyone here.”

Though Leopold knew he should have shut the conversation down, he wanted to keep Peregrine talking a little longer. His good mood was infectious.

“Really, most confessions are of thoughts of lust or greed or fury. Sadly, people are more likely to confess the temptations they resisted than the ones they succumbed to. I suppose it is easier. They will of course all eventually be judged by the highest authority.”

As would Leopold be.

“Ah, one can’t blame the people. Who wants to see disappointment in the face of their priest? Especially if he is so friendly,” Peregrine answered.

Hoping he had not blushed, Leopold sorted through the sleeve of his habit, straightening it out unnecessarily.

“It’d be worse to disappoint God.”

Of course, one could still live, disappointing God. Leopold would know. If anything had ever made him doubt His existence, it was that he figured he should have been struck down by lightning for how often he had gotten himself through the drudgery of service by eyeing an attractive man in the crowd. Should he have confessed this? But once you were in the shoes of a priest, the secret of the confessional did not hold true anymore, no matter how holy it supposedly was. Another priest might pretend to listen in confidence, but had Leopold admitted to all his impure thoughts and acts, the fact that he enjoyed the company of men, the bishop would still have heard about it and he would have been excommunicated and thrown into the streets. Leopold had no other skills than this, since he’d been forced into the church young – he had to eat somehow. It was so laughably depressing to consider how much lighter his heart could be if his father had only decided to give him to a merchant for apprenticeship instead of grasping for the good public opinion that came with sacrificing one of your children to God in this way.

Peregrine touched his shoulder, startling Leopold out of his thoughts.

“Why do you look so sad, father?”

“It’s nothing. I should – I should get back to work.”

Peregrine pushed off the pew, the force of it leaving him standing a little too close to Leopold.

“Until later, father.”

-

By the time the sun was sinking outside the stained glass windows as the last of his sheep spoke their confessions, Leopold was sure that Peregrine had abandoned him in favour of some more easily pursued pleasure. It was really no great compliment, he chided himself, to tempt a young man into a mass on a Sunday morning, should he be awake. The taverns hadn’t started serving drinks yet, the market stalls were abandoned, and the inhabitants of the pleasure houses at the haven laid in slumber. Now that night had fallen, obviously Peregrine had already forgotten him in favour of something – someone – more exciting. Leopold could hardly blame him. He desperately wanted to hear of the journeys Peregrine had undertaken, the places and people he’d seen. He wanted to hear nothing from people like himself.

The church doors had shut behind an old man and not opened again. Leopold sighed as he got to his feet. Well, there was no use crying about it. It was probably better for his immortal soul that Peregrine was gone, but surely new temptation would be flooded into this busy town sooner or later. He dreaded and hoped for it at the same time.

Leopold almost dropped the church key when, stepping outside, he saw Peregrine leaning against the wall.

“Sir? Were you looking to come to confession?”

“No, not really,” Peregrine said, stretching his arms over his head and straightening. He moved like a cat, all lazy grace. “I don’t have anything to confess.”

Leopold gave a slim smile.

“You must be a very virtuous person.”

Peregrine laughed. “No. I just don’t feel bad about the things I do.” He stepped up to him. “But I did want to see you again. Priests are allowed to talk to people outside of the church as well, are they not?”

“Well, yes, of course-”

“Wonderful!” Peregrine barely waited for him to lock up the church before he took his elbow. “It is such a beautiful evening, much too nice to spend it in a city. Fall is going to come and drive us all into the taverns soon enough. What is the fastest way into the countryside, father? Will you show me?”

Leopold nodded before he’d thought about it.

“You enjoy nature?” he asked, to distract himself from his fluttering nerves.

“Oh yes. Have you ever been to Ireland, father?”

“No, I’m afraid.”

Peregrine launched into a tale of wild storm coasts and tall stone castles as Leopold led the way. It was not unusual, Leopold told himself, for a priest to be seen talking to someone on a stroll. Tending to the flock, as the bishop would call it. He wondered of Peregrine’s motivation to take him out into a lonely place out of town, though. Was he a robber? But Leopold had nothing of value. Peregrine had been inside the church today, too; he would have seen that the key would give him access to nothing but wooden benches.

Perhaps he was just a merry man who enjoyed company. Leopold gave himself to the story of his adventures over the sea as he led them on a badly-kept road north, then across untracked grass lands towards a small cove he’d found years ago wandering by himself. Thick, shoulder-height banks of reed grass and weeds hid the strip of meadow fading into white sand from view, and there was only a narrow path down the ragged cliffs that surrounded it to begin with.

“I admit I like the town more, but when I wish to be lonely, this is my favourite spot,” Leopold said, when Peregrine paused his story to inspect where they had ended up.

Peregrine smiled. “What a good place to hide.”

Leopold wanted to say that one could also simply use the quiet to contemplate, but that was when Peregrine took his hand. Leopold held his breath.

Contemplation was not usually what he brought men here for, it was true. But he’d not dared to hope, merely figured that having seen Peregrine with this backdrop would make for a nice image to call up in his mind on lonely nights.

He turned his hand in Peregrine’s and squeezed his long fingers, looking out over the sea, which reflected a bright full moon in a clear sky. When Peregrine leaned in, his tall form crowding him, he turned his head just in time to find Peregrine’s full, soft lips against his own.

Once upon a time, he may have put up a token resistance, telling Peregrine that they shouldn’t, couldn’t, but he’d learned to swallow those words because if he didn’t mean them, he may as well keep himself from scaring off the men he wanted, and he couldn’t remember ever wanting anyone as much as Peregrine.

They sank into the grass together. The kiss still lasted, which surprised Leopold. If he got any kisses at all, they were usually quick and furtive. Peregrine took his time, though, nipping at his lips to part them, slipping his tongue into his mouth, cupping his face with one hand to tip his head back. When he drew away, his tongue flicked out one last time in a teasing nudge and Leopold’s heart was racing.

“I’ve been wanting to do that since I saw you at the haven,” Peregrine said, running his hand up Leopold’s leg. “Ah, how kind of the church to always dress their servants in clothes that give such easy access.”

Leopold could feel his face colour to hear Peregrine describe the clothing of a priest in such a way, but at the same time, his cock stirred at the crass insinuation. Carefully, almost afraid to break the wonderful, sinful spell he was under, he pulled Peregrine’s tunic out of his belt and raised it to find perfectly sculpted, hard muscle underneath. Peregrine smiled when Leopold let his hands run over him, reverent as in prayer.

“You are beautiful,” Leopold murmured.

Peregrine pressed him down into the grass.

Fornication the way Leopold knew it was more often than not a little pathetic. Sometimes, he would feel lucky that he had gotten to pleasure a man with his mouth. Even if his partner was more obliging, both of them would still bow to the pressure of shame or fear of discovery.

It was different with Peregrine. He was taking his time, his hands all over Leopold’s body, murmuring mindless compliments, touching him like a lover. When he slid off his habit, Leopold laid before him just as a man, the promises he’d made to God and on the holy texts forgotten as Peregrine revealed his perfect form before him and they fall back naked in the grass, hidden in the star-studded darkness.

From somewhere, Peregrine had procured a small bottle of oil, but as Leopold stretched out under him, he saw him pour some on his fingers instead of his manhood. The confusion did not last long, as Peregrine moved up one of Leopold’s knees, giving his infernally tempting smile as he pushed one finger into him.

Leopold could have come just on his fingers as they prodded and teased every inch of him, Peregrine exploring him as thoroughly from the inside as he had from the outside; but despite the disappointment that surely crossed his face, he was happy that Peregrine pulled back just in time before he spilled himself, for the wish to have him inside him was growing overwhelming.

“Do you want it?” Peregrine asked quietly into his ear, as if he had heard Leopold’s thoughts. “Do you want to me to fuck you, Father Leopold?”

Leopold hesitated only a moment, guilt coiling in his stomach; but then he looked into Peregrine’s golden eyes.

“Yes.”

Peregrine was so big inside him and yet Leopold thought nothing had ever felt so perfect as being filled up by him. He ran his hands through Peregrine’s long hair, caressed every inch of his body he could reach, pushed his hips into the unforgiving rhythm he put forward, whimpered his name. Energy seemed to crackle between them like lightning bolts. His back arched off the ground, his heels dug trenches into the wet earth.

A wave of sadness hit him as he fell off the peak and Peregrine spent himself inside him almost the same moment. As Peregrine gathered him up in his arms and kissed his face, still inside him, so free, so loving, the feeling grew that there would never be anything or anyone who could compare to this.

-

However, Peregrine stayed.

Leopold usually still asked God’s forgiveness after his dalliances, but as the days with Peregrine came and went, his prayers became less fervent. For his desperate and futile wish to be redeemed to really take root, he had to convince himself that this time had been the last time, that from now on he would be stronger for God, even if he had long forfeited his seat in heaven, and he always believed it a little bit, though he always failed again.

He was too ashamed to sit on his knees and tell bold-faced lies, though. As long as Peregrine would have him – and Peregrine had had him in many ways, and did not seem to tire of it – he knew he would never tell him no. In the morning he sat at the haven with Leopold and they spun stories of where the ships might go. He wandered out into the countryside with him, as far as Leopold dared to remove himself from his parish. He told of his manifold travels. They pleased each other in every secret spot they could find, by daylight or in darkness.

Of course, the abandon Peregrine inspired in his free hours forced the hooks of guilt deeper into his flesh when it came to doing his daily duties. As long as he’d been able to pretend he didn’t want to do the sinful things he kept on doing, he had not felt as ill looking at the cross; but then, he’d always been unhappy and he wasn’t now.

Confession, at least, was still only about talking to people, more about attempting to help them than bless them, the latter of which Leopold was sure he had no power to do anymore. Hilde, an older woman who lived by the seaside, held the door open for the next penitent as she left the church. Leopold was surprised to find Peregrine standing there. He hadn’t been around for confession since some weeks ago when he had stolen Leopold away for the first time.

“I’m the last again,” Peregrine said.

“Are you coming to fetch me?”

“No, I have a confession to make.”

Peregrine walked up the aisle and sauntered past the pulpit to sit next to Leopold on the wooden choir bench. It was dark in the church already. Leopold smiled when he leaned in and Peregrine gladly turned his head to receive the kiss.

“I thought you never confessed because you never regretted anything you did?”

Peregrine hummed. “I suppose you’re right. There isn’t much of a point in _me_ confessing. What about you, Leopold?”

Leopold shifted. “What about me?” he asked.

He did not like the mocking edge to Peregrine’s tone. It did not sound as indulgently sweet as usual. The gold in his eyes had changed. They were flaming yellow now and simmering red and burning orange. Leopold watched the flames swallow his pupils. His teeth had grown sharp when he showed that bright smile again, which now stretched much too wide across his face, like the maw of a snake.

Leopold’s blood ran cold. “How can you be in here?”

“I can go wherever sinful humans go,” the demon spoke. He leaned back against the bench. “Desire,” he continued. “Lust. That is a sin. Not what you want – not even that you want men –, but how you want it, you sad caged bird. And lust is not just falling into a stranger’s arms. I know you want other things. Your eyes grow wide whenever I tell you of places far from here. You hate the church.” He brushed his fingertips against the silver cross Leopold wore around his neck. “All your promises are false and your vows are hollow lies.”

He sounded so triumphant.

Leopold laughed out loud. The sound reverberated through the church. The demon looked startled.

“What are you doing here, demon?” Leopold said. He was frightened, but he could not stop smiling. It was too absurd. “I already know all that. You are wasting your time. You can’t be foolish enough to imagine you were the first man to tempt me.”

“No, but-”

“And do you think I don’t know that dreaming of abandoning my post in the church is also a sin? If anything, if lying with a man is not, you just told me I am holier than I believed.”

The puzzled look on the demon’s face was a sight, but Leopold felt the sting now through his hysteric amusement. He got to his feet and strode towards the doors.

“I always knew I was headed for the pit. I’m only sad that Peregrine is not real. I liked him a great deal.” He put his hand on the brass knob, biting his tongue to keep the tears from filling his eyes. “If you’ve no confessions to make, you should go. Otherwise I will leave you in here and there won’t be any sinful humans. You will be alone with God, like I have to be. Believe me, it’s not pleasant.”

And the demon did get up and walk out of the door Leopold held open for him, looking deep in thought.

Panic rushed through Leopold with delay, but it did not manage to make him regret the words he had said. After all, he had not spoken a lie. How far had he already sunken to know that sleeping with a demon changed so little? And yet, it was almost freeing to realise that he could give up that last shred of hope for salvation humans liked to cling to and know he had sealed the deal.

-

Leopold laid awake in bed when he heard the front door open. The small cottage in which he lived had not been repaired in some time and the wood always scraped just so over the uneven floor. He was sure he had locked up.

He didn’t need to ask who was visiting him. He’d had a feeling it was coming. You did not join with a demon and live out the rest of your life on earth, even if he had maybe managed to thwart his expectations – Peregrine, as his mind still wanted to call him, for he could not yet let go off the image of his smile before he kissed him. That was why he was doomed, of course.

Peregrine’s eyes were like candle flames in the darkness. Leopold sat up.

“Are you taking me to your home now?”

“No, not yet, I think.”

Peregrine sat down on his bedside. They were quiet for a moment.

“You surprised me, little priest.”

“I figured,” Leopold said with a pale smile. “Yet, it changes nothing.”

“I wonder.” Peregrine looked at him. “People usually cry and whinge and beg me. I haven’t seen anyone look at hellfire and laugh. I wanted your soul for hell… but now I think I want it for myself.”

Leopold swallowed as Peregrine extended his hand to him. Now he was grinning, wide and unnerving, but still with that impish hint of joy.

“Perhaps you were right – I didn’t show you anything you hadn’t come up with by yourself. How negligent of me to call such a paltry effort temptation! I think you should let me take you away.”

“To hell?”

“No, to Castille,” Peregrine said, laughing. “Novgorod. Jazira. Connaught. Wherever you want.”

Leopold snorted. He was too tired and too afraid to stay stern.

“If I could go to Castille with your first and to hell after, I would at least die happy.”

“Hell is much nicer if you have a lover with you, but death is unnecessary.” Peregrine ran his finger along Leopold’s jaw. “You could become something more than just a dead soul.” He grinned. “You can never tell what happens when a human changes, you know, but I think the two of us will be kindred… after all, you already desire so much.”

Leopold wasn’t quite sure what Peregrine was suggesting, or that he was brave enough to think it through. Was he just tempting him? But they had agreed that there was little sense in that. Leopold would go to hell for sure, but what wasn’t sure was that he’d stay with Peregrine. If that was what Peregrine was trying to accomplish here, Leopold would not be in his way.

He leaned in and kissed Peregrine, sliding his arms around his neck as he pulled him down on the bed. As he caught a glimpse of their shadows in the small mirror standing on the table across the room, he thought that his own eyes were strangely bright in a way they had never been before, alight like flames in the night. Peregrine kissed him and he pushed the thought away, didn’t care enough anymore to worry.

The front door was still open. He could feel a breeze drifting in from outside, but for his part, the whole town could know, could stand in the damned door and watch them. It didn’t matter anymore. Tomorrow, the two of them would be gone.


End file.
